Page 166 of Carnal Wagers

The world spun, forest green muddling into shadowed black and woodsy brown. Shapes blurred, and my head screamed at me in swells of agony. It felt like it weighed double its size. I buried my hands in the litter and shook off the confusion, widening my eyes to see better. It wasn’t working, but sitting around until my vision cleared wasn’t an option. I forced myself up on two feet, staggering left and right, while rushed footsteps approached from behind.

“Boss, we got you.”

Hands pulled me upright, and I swung around at them.

“Oi, it’s just us. Skipper and Shiner.”

“Fuck.” I tripped and flumped to the ground. My vision swam, wet and hazy. When both attempted to haul me up, I shook them off. “No. Not me. Go after her. Get them. They’ve taken my wife.”

Their silence made the banging in my head all that much louder.

“Go,” I yelled. “Get her back.”

I lurched after them, stumbling against trees and rubbing my temples for some relief. I clutched a fist to my mouth to keep the bile down. We had to make it to her. If they got away, if she was harmed…every possible image of what the cartel was capable of raced through my mind and moved my unsteady legs faster. The world closed in on getting to her. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The pain took a back seat under a burst of adrenaline.

More shots went off and cracked through the woodlands. I was almost there. A motor kicked on and roared. The drag and scratch of tires spitting up dirt racketed between gunshots and stalled my heart.

I hurtled out into a dirt roadway and smacked against the side of a cheap hatchback with a sharp thud as it picked up speed. My body rolled off it and bounced into the brush, but I rushed back to my feet.

The car raced away in a spray of mucky puddle water and the crunch of grit beneath its tires. It disappeared as quickly as I’d felt it against me, down the two-track ruts in the dirt. In seconds, it was too far to catch up to on foot. From the mix of tire tracks in the combination of dried earth and wet clay, off-road vehicles seemed to make frequent use of this road, one I’d had no idea existed on the edge of my land.

“Where is she?” I scurried to Paulie, who hastily wrapped Shiner’s leg while it pissed blood. His arm wasn’t much better.

Paulie adjusted his glasses up his sweaty nose with his shoulder and jutted his chin in the direction the vehicle left.

“They stuck her in the trunk. We couldn’t shoot, or we’d risk hitting her.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” I yelled. “Tell me you got something. Plates. Anything.”

“I got those. Can’t tell you they’re real though.”

I scrunched my eyes and massaged my temples, cursing the bastards out in English and swearing them to an early grave and the devil’s arms in Gaelic. We had no car, no means to chase them down with, all because I’d wanted to cross couple’s skydiving off her damn list in early November when most skydiving facilities were closed down for the cold. She was on her own because of my failings, and that bleak thought tried to suck me back down into the abyss.

I slapped myself. Now wasn’t the time. There still was a chance. There was always at least one, even if unpleasant.

“Let’s get back to the chopper. Hand me your phone.”

Paulie passed it over, and I immediately called up Liam. It rang through, no answer.

“Devin used himself for target practice, sir. He can’t walk.”

“Then we’ll carry him.”

The pain in my head was shifting to a dull thudding against the roar of my heartbeat and flush of my quickening pulse. The longer this took, the less chance she had. My fingers fidgeted with a longing to twirl the curved knife I’d given her and retake control of the situation. To cut something open. Hit something. Shoot something. Do something.

I dialed Brody next and pinched the phone between my ear and shoulder as I picked Shiner up from under his arms and Paulie took up his legs. We jogged back through the woods toward the glade, airstrip, and hangar.

“Paulie,” my brother answered, his voice devoid of feeling, and just hearing it had me grinding my teeth raw. “Why you calling me?”

“It’s me.”

“You shouldn’t be using his phone.”

“Save it. This isn’t time for protocol. Alice—” Damn it, the name change was going to take some adjusting to. “Alizé’s been taken.”

“And?”

“And I need her back. This has Sosa written all over it.”